Lord, I need Your divine intervention here. What do I do? How do I help these people?
He tapped his pencil against his thigh and closed his eyes, pouring out his heart in prayer. When he ran out of words, he knew that God still understood him. The groanings of his heart.
An hour later, he was back in his own small shelter going over everything that he could find in the medical journals on the Great Sickness of 1900. The combination of infectious diseases—measles and influenza—that had never reached the native Alaskan populations before became deadly. The epidemic took a quarter upward to half of their population, while the non-native population saw little effect.
A knock at the door made him jump to his feet. Please, not another family coming down with it.
When he opened the door, Amka greeted him with a smile. “I brought you some soup.”
“Thank you. That is much appreciated.” When was the last time he’d eaten? He couldn’t even remember. The savory and rich fragrance of thick broth, herbs, and smoked fish made his mouth water.
She set the tray down and turned to go.
“Wait, Amka, please. May I ask you a question?”
“Anything you need, Doctor, I am willing to answer what I can.” She clasped her hands in front of her and dipped her head.
“Do you remember the sickness of 1900? Many called it the Great Sickness?”
Her chin tipped lower, and when she lifted her face, her eyes shone with unshed tears. “Yes. It killed thousands of our people.”
“Did it hit your village here?”
“No.” She put a hand to her chest. “Thankfully, it did not. But many of our brothers and sisters along the rivers—the Yukon, Kuskokwim, and Nushagak—told us of the devastation they faced.”
“I see.” He narrowed his eyes and glanced back over to the books. “That must be why it is hitting your village so hard this time.”
“I do not think I understand?” Her brows came together in the center.
“Since this infection is new to your population, no one has immunity.”
“Immunity?This word I do not know.”
“Our bodies were designed by God to build up animmunityto sickness, a way to resist it, fight it off. Once we have endured some sicknesses, we can’t get them again. Or if we do, it’s not as severe.”
“Ah, yes. Like the chicken pox. My mother’s generation got very sick when white men came through to trade. But then those who have had it do not get it again. Is that what you mean?”
“Yes, exactly.” Peter went back to the books. It didn’t help that there were probably several other villages that had no immunity to the measles or flu. “How many of the native people were not hit with the Great Sickness a few years ago?”
She squinted and pursed her lips. “Maybe twenty ... twenty-five villages?”
His eyes widened. “That’s a good deal more than I expected.” If he took an average of one hundred people per village, that could mean between two and threethousandpeople could be leveled by this growing epidemic. And if it affected them the same way it had in 1900...
They might lose over a thousand people. The thought sickened him.
“Are you not feeling well, Dr. Peter?” Amka stepped closer.
He blinked away the horrid thoughts and attempted to give her a reassuring smile. “I’m fine. But thank you for your concern and for helping me with my questions.”
“I will go now and feed the others.” She slipped out the door without another word.
Peter turned to the tray with the soup as his stomach growled. As much as he needed to get back to Nome and check on his many patients there, the pull to help train the people here on how to care for each other was stronger. Hehadto show them how to keep things clean. And how to keep from spreading the sickness to other villages.
Maybe Amka could deliver messages to the many villages. Or Whitney? The people trusted her.
As soon as he thought her name, a picture of her face came to mind. After his jealous realization the other day, he found himself thinking of her in a different way. His thoughts drifted to her more often than he’d realized, but now that his attention was on her, he couldn’t deny his feelings.
Whitney Powell was an amazing woman.
